


The Sound of Silence

by JustCantRemember



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Depression, End of the war, Eren Is a Little Shit, Implied Jearmin, M/M, Survivors Guilt, fucking insomnia, i need to stop, implied (past) jeanmarco, implied ereri, it gets worse and doesn't get better, lots of death, lots of memory/flashback things that do not end well, more fucking angst, more goddamn angst, no happily ever after, post-season one, sad ereri oneshot, ugh this is so depressing, whelp this is a sad fic, you can say angst again, youre going to hate me when you finish this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 14:40:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11315523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustCantRemember/pseuds/JustCantRemember
Summary: Why? Why had he created such a mess? Why had he believed it was others’ right to die for him? Their duty to sacrifice their lives to save him? How many had faultlessly gone to their deaths to save him, the stupid shifter? He could hear their yelling in his ears when he turned his head and closed his eyes to block out their misty red figures.–A sad oneshot about what happens when the war is won, but things aren't back to normal and aren't going so well for our favorite Titan shifter and his gang–





	The Sound of Silence

**Author's Note:**

> This oneshot has been a while in the making but the ending was a bit rushed so I apologize for that. Also the italics are not working so if something doesn't make sense then it probably should have been in italics. Like if something is in quotes but you have no idea who would have said it. That should have been italicized. 
> 
> Anyway thanks for clicking on this and enjoy!

Empty silence filled his heart. A stone cold, rapturing blankness that washed over him in the most unexpected of ways. Quiet permeated the air around him, and he leaned back, eyes closed tightly against anything that would disturb his silence. He did not like the loud things that shocked his ears with ringing sounds. He did not like the jarring colors that assaulted his eyes when he opened them. 

Those he loved surrounded him. They had not gone like he feared they would. His monstrosity had not scared them off. After all, a close friend had told him that his beastly form simply represented their last hope, and all of the things between that. All the failures and successes before he came along and made them believe again. Made them hope again. Made them live again, with a burning passion that surprised the broken people. 

That thrum of hope rang through his ears every moment he took a single step outside. Where once terror and certain death had stalked the streets, now he walked them in silence, maybe a companion or two. He could sense the ghosts following him on eager feet. He could hear their plaintive cries–”Why did you leave me? Why didn't you take me with you? Why didn't you save me?” 

He sometimes pressed his hands over his ears and refused to listen to them. He knew it would be bad for him to hear their addictive calling. Their lure of sobbing and that strange enchantment of sorrow. At these times he would sink to his knees and scream if he walked alone, and if he didn't he would try and block out the ghosts that haunted every step. 

Mina, Samuel, Nac, Thomas; Hannah and Franz–even Mikasa’s parents, damn it all–Oluo, Eld, Gunther, and Petra; Gelgar and Nanaba; Mike; the members of the squads that died to protect him in Trost; all those innocent people he could have saved. Their sobs and dying screams echoed in his ears. He didn't even know most of them, but if only he had been stronger and smarter and faster and gotten there on time, they might still be there. 

He could see it now, the way they would still live on. 

Hannah and Franz would be married now and would have been able to raise kids like Franz had told him he wanted. They would have been happy. He had never found out what had happened to Hannah; Armin had told him about Franz’s fate. He assumed she had been eaten in a barbaric and excruciatingly painful way. After all, the Titans left no other death possible. 

Mina and Samuel and Nac and Thomas–they all would have started their careers, maybe made it into the Military Police Brigade like they had wanted to in the beginning. They would have lived, damn it, if he hadn't been such a big shot and tried to be the perfect golden warrior. If he had looked after them like he should've–they were his responsibility, for fuck’s sake–they would be here to celebrate the end of the Titans.

Oluo, Eld, Gunther, Petra–he didn't know how he could have fucked up bigger at that moment. If only he had relied on himself and not made up his mind to let others die for him, they would still be here. He could see them every time someone made a joke–Oluo would pretend to be great and then Petra would shoot him down, all the while causing Gunther and Eld to laugh and just become happy friends–he could see them dying every time he closed his eyes. 

Gelgar, Nanaba, Mike, and the rest of the squads that died to protect him in his eleven-year-long war against the Titans had deserved a better way to go. Not some merciless slaughter that had absolutely no honor in death. They deserved to see their families and live long full lives, and here he had totally messed shit up with his cocky attitude and ‘martyr for the people’ act. They should have made it home, but because of him they would never return. 

“Why did you let me die?” 

The ghosts screamed those questions out at him every time he walked through the streets of a place home to hundreds of people. No longer. People were still terrified of the Titans, and while he had publicly assured they were gone, no one would live in this border city, his early memories. Mikasa did not find it home any longer, seeing as nothing but tragedy had befallen when she had been there–at least in her only salvageable memory. Grisha and Carla had become shadows to her, unnoticed. He was the only one who truly cared enough to remember them. 

His mother, his father…

If not for him, they would still be alive. If only he had tried harder to lift that beam on his mother. He had realized she had lied to him when he watched her final moments. He had realized her legs had not been crushed. If he and Mikasa and Hannes had stayed another few seconds, she would have made it. If only he had never gone with his father into the woods…

His father. He had eaten his father. Alive. All his fault. Titans were nothing more than beasts, slavering carnivorous monsters. Had that been what he had turned into? A savage, primitive thing? He wanted it to be true. Craved for it to be true so people would have a reason to hate him. To finally understand he was good for nothing. How could they think he was humanity’s salvation? He had done nothing more than kill. 

Mr Hannes. Another person to add to his toll. His protector, one of the sole reasons he had still survived. He had carried Eren out of the city with a broken spirit, and he had died five years–or was it six?–later defending his ‘charge’ from the same Titan. Misery stole into his heart every time he remembered the once-drunken warrior. He could see Hannes gratefully knocking back a glass of alcohol and drunkenly teasing him for joining the Survey Corps. HIs heart felt physically pained when the thoughts and memories crossed his mind. 

Marco. 

Oh God, why Marco. 

All of this stemmed to him–if he had been able to kill more Titans, Marco wouldn’t have died. And if he had been as smart as Armin, he would have caught onto Annie sooner. If that theory had been true, then he could have prevented Marco’s death. He could see the freckled boy, laughing with Jean’s arm slung around his shoulders and a bright smile on his face. The memories tended to overwhelm him whenever he saw Jean’s solemn, angry face. The fact that he never laughed, not anymore. 

Why? Why had he created such a mess? Why had he believed it was others’ right to die for him? Their duty to sacrifice their lives to save him? How many had faultlessly gone to their deaths to save him, the stupid shifter? He could hear their yelling in his ears when he turned his head and closed his eyes to block out their misty red figures. 

He saw a world painted of red, in red, because of red–he could no longer stand waking up in the mornings to see this monstrosity he had become. Everything white or cream–everyone’s shirts, the whitewashed buildings, even Levi’s stupid cravat he always wore–had a splash of red on it in his eyes, until he blinked furiously and saw things as they truly were. There was no help, after all, no help for the aftereffects of a terror so overwhelming that even the strongest caved. 

The worst of it went unspoken even when his friends tried to help him. They didn’t understand. None of them could, even if they tried to do so. No one could understand the overwhelming despair that crept up on him at the sound of screaming, breaking of glass, the shaking of a floor when someone dropped something heavy. He kept it well hidden, and said nothing, but it was apparent that he had changed. 

The determination rotted away into waves of grey blankness that he struggled to fight. His hatred for the Titans ebbed into weariness at the end of humanity’s final war against them. Where rage had filled him before, now only the strain of succeeding remained. He had aged up from the naive little fifteen year old he had been, from the simple-minded ten year old version of himself. He had grown wiser, and more hopeless. He had no longer believed he would end the Titans single-handedly and bring the human race to victory. 

If only he were stronger. 

He could hear the cries from the wounded below, but he doubted anyone else could. Sitting down in his chair, eyes threatening to close and hopefully never open, he wished for the end. Twenty-one years of age, and he wished for the word to move on, past the threat that had plagued him for so long. He could barely stand being stuck in time here, couldn’t find himself in this shifting mass of noise that surrounded him. Mikasa tried to help him. Armin tried to help him. They did not succeed. Reiner had escaped. Annie had escaped, aided by Bertolt, who then took his own life in the process. 

His mind was haunted by Annie’s angered eyes and laugh often enough. When people publicly slammed Bertolt for being a coward, he wanted to strike them down and yell at them. Bertolt had been braver than all of them combined. He didn’t want to work for the enemy; he had no choice. Bertolt had sacrificed everything for his friends. As much as he hated the other boy, no one deserved his end or his situation. Somehow, he pitied Bertolt. Would he have had as much courage to end it all in his situation? 

He could still see Bertolt carrying Annie when he and Reiner had rescued her, could still recall being panicked when he had arrived by the scene, afraid they would get away. He could still feel the shock he felt when Bertolt knelt down with Annie in his arms and kissed her, before setting her down and pulling out his weapon. He could still see the other’s dark head flopping back as he crumpled to the ground, neck in a bright smile before he stabbed himself repeatedly in the chest with some kind of knife. 

He could still hear Annie’s screams as Reiner heaved her over his shoulder. He could still see her hateful glare through tear-strewn eyes focused directly at him, the first to get there, the reason Bertolt had not escaped. His hatred had overwhelmed him. He had put himself first, instead of thinking of a way to capture Bertolt alive. 

Again, all his fault. Every single damn one of them, he could remember every single one. All those lost, all the pain they had felt–if only he had been able to find a solution. If only he had sealed the wall earlier. If only he had been able to free himself when trapped with Kenny Ackerman. If only he had been able to stop Rod Reiss. 

He had not, and it seemed that at moment to him that he had killed more humans than Titans.

He had collapsed to his knees beside the chair before he knew it, and quickly looked up, hearing the wails of the tormented around him, coming up from the floorboards and coming up from underneath him. He nearly let out a terrified scream and broke down. A hand clamped down on his arm, and he looked up in a panic. 

Mikasa stood over him, red scarf twining around her neck in a black dress. Armin’s shiny hair pulled back into a ponytail caught his eye from behind her, saying things he couldn’t understand. Mikasa gripped his arm, half lifting him off the ground, and he realised he had been falling, falling to places he hadn’t even known. Levi pushed himself off from his spot on the wall and walked towards them with hasty, clipped steps. The band continued playing, as though no one had noticed the Titan-shifter had nearly collapsed. He didn’t want anyone to notice. 

“-en? Eren, talk to me!” Mikasa was in his face suddenly, and his eyes locked on that splash of red across her neck, the scarf he gave her. She kept talking, and he balled his hands into fists to stop himself from grabbing that scarf and ripping it off her neck, choking her with that red to make it go away. His hands reached up and his fingers grazed that scarf, that red splash, that terror that wracked him. 

He jerked back as the yarn scraped against his fingertips and stunned him back to reality. The color, the vibrant red, the dark undertone–all of the aspect which made it seem blood-like vanished. Had he really just tried to choke his sister? Mikasa looked at him strangely, grabbing his outstretched hand. “Eren?” She looked up at Armin, who looked confused. “Is everything okay?” 

Levi reached them and pushed Mikasa aside. She glared at him, but Armin smacked her hand slightly to get her to quit. Levi tilted up his dropped head before huffing with distaste. “He’s drunk,” the man stated. The man on the floor did not respond, although his face showed his surprise. The way Levi classified his thoughts so quickly made him nervous. 

“I’m not,” Eren slurred, knowing that if people knew what was really wrong with him, he would never hear the end of it from Mikasa and Armin. He sucked in a quick breath and fought to keep up. He avoided looking at the splash of red on Levi’s neck, knowing if he saw that he would lose it completely. The tapping of his fingers against his side brought him back to attention. He swallowed firmly and tried to stand. 

Levi grabbed his arm and Mikasa his other, and together the two tried to haul him outside. Eren pushed them away with a small cry stifled in the back of his throat. He could not keep it buried forever, but here in the ruins of this town, he could not breathe. He needed to run, but he could barely make his limbs move. 

They called it survivor’s guilt. 

Every way he went, there they crowded him. The people he knew. He sometimes saw those that had survived among them, staring at him with angered, broken eyes. He knew it felt colder in his mind than it did here, but they stared at him with hair covered in cold frost, together with those he had lost. He could feel them, next to him, as the cries of the hurt rose up from the floor. Something told him Levi heard them, for he looked down in annoyance. Eren opened the door himself, and stepped out into the ruins of his hometown. 

Mikasa made to step out from the door and follow him, but Eren turned to her. He had changed so much, in the six years from his discovery of his Titan powers. He turned to her and scowled. “You don’t have to follow me everywhere,” he snapped. Mikasa shrank back. Armin looked at Eren curiously, as if wondering why he didn’t want to join the rest of the party. “I’m not a child, damn it! I’m twenty one years old, and I don’t need a babysitter.” 

He felt bad for saying that, sure. His heart felt cleaved in two when she shot a nasty glare at Levi and turned away. Her red scarf remained printed on his eyelids at night as Armin hastily followed her in, his blue eyes lingering in concern. It had been Armin’s strategy that won the war, along with Eren’s powers and Mikasa’s strength…

He shouldn’t have put them in danger. The fight had been won five weeks ago. Humanity had just now been able to recuperate enough. He could still hear the surprise in children’s voices when told they could go outside, with nothing to fear. There were no Titans, not anymore. The outside world...Eren hadn’t even been there yet. 

“I’m not drunk,” he said instead, leaning against the wall. His vision swam, although he could not feel any tears left in him. He had cried enough the past few weeks to last him enough time. 

Levi placed a hand on his arm and looked him straight in the eye–he had to crane his neck up to meet his gaze. Somehow, in the span of six years, Eren had shot up. Levi hadn’t noticed, hadn’t noticed anyone changing at all. He had become too fixed in his cycle of Titans being the only thing that mattered. He wondered how much he had missed then, if he hadn’t noticed the Hope of Humanity towering over him even more. 

“I know it’s hard,” the man spoke quietly. Eren looked at him with pained eyes. The brunet really needed to cut his hair. It almost touched his shoulder blades. “Losing all of them. Do you regret trying?” Again with the regrets. Eren wished he would just be quiet. It was hard to hear his voice. 

“Just can it,” Eren spat. Levi fell silent, and Eren immediately felt like he had lost something. He didn’t mean it. He just had to say it. Didn’t Levi understand? The need to have silence, the need to have everything feel like it was all a dream–Did he seriously not understand? Out of everyone, he thought Levi would understand him the most. Mikasa and Armin surely wouldn’t. Mikasa had no heart. Armin was simply a cold-blooded bastard, and didn’t feel, didn’t understand, like Eren did. Didn’t understand people’s dependence on greater powers. 

Eren broke down into fast breathing. He could hear them again, really hear them, inside his mind they screamed like that sound he never found. He did not allow himself to cry, he could not try to pretend he was strong. Tears ached at his temples, but he could not cry. He would not. His breath rushed in and out and he gave a wordless cry, dropping to his knees. He tried to block out the despair with his breathing, which grew shallower the more he tried. 

The rush of roaring water filled his ears and he realized he lay slumped on the ground, Levi roughly shaking him. He choked back a laugh, a sob hiccuping in his throat. He didn’t want to move. He wanted to lay here and forget about his inner monstrosity. His inner sin, his burden he had to carry. The weight he never wanted to be put on his shoulders. 

“Eren, this is ridiculous. Get control of yourself.” The brunet breathed hysterically. He had been pushed by demand too many times for it to work now. His sense of duty no longer mattered. He was disposable now, and could act like such. It had somehow become easier to break down in abandoned places, but never in front of someone before. No one knew the extent of his problems. 

He felt Levi’s hands on his shoulders tugging him into a sitting position, and Eren leaned against the wall bonelessly. His breathing slowed some, but the world drifted in and out of focus. “Can you hear them?” he mumbled. His heart raced. What was this? His head, his chest, his mind and heart–everything felt like it would explode. “Can you hear it?” His heart shouldn’t be pounding like this. 

“Hear what?” Levi asked cautiously, eyes wary of what would come spilling out of Eren’s mouth in his hysterical state. “I don’t hear anything.” He grabbed Eren’s arm as he swayed and pulled it over his shoulders. Eren listed heavily to his right, nearly leaning on Levi. The older man sniffed in distaste. He really didn’t want anything or anyone touching him. 

“Their screaming, their crying–they’re asking me why I let them die, why I didn’t kill the titans faster, why I’m still alive,” Eren half sobbed. He struggled to swallow in his desperation and collapsed, coughing, rasping for air. 

And Levi understood suddenly, why Eren never slept at night, why he always walked the streets of Shiganshina alone. He could hear the people he lost calling after him, blaming him. Levi saw the same some days, heard Farlan and Isabel and Petra and Oluo and Eld and Gunther and Mike and all those who were close to him crying out to him, asking him to go as well. He understood what Eren went through now, but if Levi could get through it so could the tenacious man. 

Perhaps not. The burden on him lay greater than even Levi’s. The souls of a million more did, the hopes and dreams and hates greater on the younger man than anyone else. Twenty one years of age; no one should be feeling this way. Pity swelled over Levi, more pity than he possibly had for anyone except criminals. This was not something Eren could run from or deal with. For Eren to know that he was the cause of a large portion of humanity’s deaths would haunt his dreams forever. 

“I don’t want to deal with it anymore,” the man half sobbed. Bursts of light exploded between his eyes and he wondered for a moment if he really wasn’t drunk. His words came out half slurred or incomprehensible in some cases. His head ached and his heart pounded increasingly faster and he could feel a deep, throbbing pain at the nape of his neck. Something had happened, to make him like this. Eren let loose a wild scream that came out softer than he imagined. The reaction he was having, this hopeless despair enveloping him, scared him more than anything he had possibly ever encountered understood to humans. Only the Titans and the fear of being eaten surpassed this. 

“Eren, it’s okay, you’ll get through it,” Levi muttered, trying to be reassuring. He only repeated what he wished someone would say to him when he went through those times after a expedition. It didn’t seem to be working. His breathing decreased slightly, his face grew pale and lines seemed to shadow under his eyes. 

When his head tipped back and Eren let out a shattering scream that tore at his throat, Levi knew something was wrong. Forces worked at play here–more than Eren’s overwhelming despair and his terror, his guilt. Something had happened, and although Levi didn’t know what it was, he knew he had to figure it out. He needed to deem Eren okay, otherwise–where was Hanji? That woman was never where she needed to be. Probably off drunk with the rest of the lot. 

He grabbed Eren’s chin between his hands and forced him to look at him. The man’s piercing green eyes looked out at him dull and unfocused. He looked like he was ill, deathly ill. A thick sob wracked from his throat. He swayed almost bonelessly, leaning practically all of his weight on Levi. 

The scream drew people from inside; Mikasa ran out with Armin in tow, Jean and Connie behind them. Hanji peeked out a moment later, a glass of wine in her hands. She dropped it when she saw Eren slumped in Levi’s faltering arms. The glass shattered on impact with the ground. 

Mikasa gave a small cry and pushed everyone away to kneel by Eren. She was crying, knowing something was wrong. Armin began to babble, connecting everything in his mind. Something about the Titan part of his being had caused him to get sick. Hanji had been secretly predicting this for weeks, since even before the Titans were vanquished. And because Armin had been too busy with other things, his friend was dying from something they could not cure. 

Levi grabbed both him and Hanji by a shoulder and got right in their faces. “Fix him, do you hear? Help him, something’s wrong!” Armin jerked away and tried to stabilize his friend. 

“He’s dying, Levi. There’s nothing I can do. We’ve been predicting this for weeks.” Hanji looked away, not even trying to save Eren. It must have been that bad, if she didn’t even try. “There’s no recovery. His Titan part is taking over, not transforming him, just changing him to the point where he can’t live. His heart is slowing down, he’s going to get colder and then hotter and run a massive fever, and then it’s a painful way to go. He’s going to start coughing up blood and then there’s nothing we can do. There’s nothing we can do now.” Hanji broke off, and then looked away so Levi didn’t see her crying. He did anyway. 

“Nothing?” 

She nodded, looking at the man on the ground. “At the most, he has an hour of constant agony. Armin and I have been conducting tests like crazy, in order to try and find a way to prevent it. I’m sorry.” 

Levi said nothing to her. He crouched beside the dying man, staring at his closed eyes. “Eren, do you hear me?” He searched for some answering reply, and found nothing. “Eren. Open your eyes if you can hear me.” The brunet did so a minute later, almost closing his eyes again. 

“Enough,” Mikasa snapped, sobbing and pushing Levi away. “Can’t you see he needs to rest and recuperate? That’s what he needs, not you getting in his face and sapping his strength.” She turned back to Eren, cradling him. At this point in time, others had flocked to see the commotion. Levi rounded on Mikasa, frustrated and more than a little bit terrified. 

“Listen to me,” he raged, grabbing her by the scarf and pulling her up. “Your damn coddling isn’t going to do anything but kill him. Letting him close his eyes? The dark will seem so much more inviting. Holding him, encouraging to rest? He needs to live, not drift into death. He’s giving up, can’t you see? You’re encouraging him, to rest, to sleep. That’s harmful to him. I know you’re worried about not being able to see him again, but I don’t have the time to deal with that. Let me help him, and you may have him back.” 

Mikasa stepped back resentfully and simply glared, turning to Armin for comfort. He leaned on her just as much as she leaned on him, both terrified, both crying, both full of fear and guilt. Armin had tried and had not succeeded in saving his friend, had not prevailed in finding some way to stop this. He had been monitoring Eren for weeks, and had decided that Hanji had just become paranoid. Now all their fears were coming true and he had played it off on Eren being drunk. 

“It’s cold,” Eren mumbled, coughing weakly. His skin felt clammy to touch, alien and disgusting and repulsive. The lines under his eyes from before had turned into the ridges that formed once he exited his Titan form. He had somehow gone even paler and more sickly. 

“Get me water,” Levi snapped, to no one in particular. “Eren, open your eyes.” The brunet didn't move. “Open your eyes, damn it! That's a order!” His voice cracked and trembled, betraying his unsteadiness. 

He had lost too many people to this war against the Titans and against themselves. He could not let the Titans take their final prize, could not let them have one more life. Especially not this one. Eren, more than anyone else, deserved to live freely. To be happy in the world he had always wanted to know, to see the places he had always dreamed of seeing. Levi could not let the Titans take him. 

Bright green, like the freshness of spring, caught him like a human staring directly into the face of a Titan. Unexpected, strange. Out of place, in the way that shouldn't belong but did. Eren’s eyes represented the green of their cloaks, the mission they fought for, salvation, a new beginning. This could not be the end. This delightful and strange color, bright, welcomed, radiant. 

Terrifying, that this could be the last time Levi might see them. 

“That’s it, keep them open,” Levi barked. He became the focal point in a haze, the gold at the end of the rainbow, the light in the darkness. He became a clear image growing blurrier, a window clouded by rain, a piece of glass smudged by grit. He became the only thing Eren could see. 

He was not the only thing Eren could hear, however. Eren could hear Mikasa and Armin crying, could hear Sasha’s worried whispering and Connie’s false reassurances. He could hear Hanji shouting but none of that mattered. He could hear much more than the people there.

“Why didn't you save me?” 

He could hear the cries of all those he had lost, caught up in a storm of whirlwinds of screams and cries and accusations. He tried to clamp his hands over his ears, grimacing at the sound, but he couldn't make it that far. He could hear their keening, could feel them drawing closer and waiting, waiting–

“Eren. Talk to me,” Levi demands, nearly going so far as to grab his face. He refrained, knowing Mikasa would pitch another goddamn hissy fit. “What was the reason you joined the Scouts?” 

“You know,” Eren choked out. “I wanted to–” he broke off into a fit of coughing. “Be free.” His entire reason, really, to see the sights Levi said looked new, to smell the air that Levi said smelled clean, to find the things he and Armin read about. To be able to go anywhere, to do anything he wanted to. “Just to–live–like I–could regret–nothing.” 

Levi’s words, thrown back to him. The older man clutched them like a lifeline. “That's a definite goal,” he said, not fighting the sad expression. He looked up when Jean tapped him on the shoulder. 

In his hand he held a giant glass of water, and a damp cloth. Levi took it from him gratefully, placing the glass in the grass and wiping the sweat away from Eren’s brow. “What’s going on?” Jean asked him, staring down at Eren. 

“Jean,” Eren rasped, no anger in his voice. The two-toned man leaned down. Eren grasped ahold of his arm, tight and hot and constricting. “Please. Take care of Mikasa and Armin.” Jean looked at him in shock. 

“What? You can do it yourself! You're not going to die!” He whirled on Armin, striding forward. “He’s not, right?” The blond gave a small tremble, a small nod as Mikasa released him. He took a quavering step forward to join the ring around his best friend. Jean pulled him into a hug, pressing Armin’s face against his shoulder as the smaller man cried desperately, clinging onto him with shaking hands. 

Eren Yeager, Humanity’s Hope, was dying. 

“No, I won't!” Jean cried, letting go of Armin and kneeling by Eren. “You bastard, always going on about never giving up, about enduring! You made me risk everything because of the way you talk, like it's something true and real, that your dreams are tangible! If even I believe you, if even I want those dreams now, then how come you stopped chasing them? You’ve given up! You told all of us to never stop fighting, and look at you! You're just waiting it out now, just waiting to let go! You've stopped fighting!

“Well guess what, Eren! People have risked their lives for you! You owe it to them to keep trying and to stay alive! You aren't allowed to stop fighting, you aren't allowed to give up! This won't accomplish anything! If I haven't, then you can’t either!” 

Maybe it was the way Jean had the hardest time dealing with Eren’s impending death. Maybe it was the fact that his speech moved him. Maybe it was the fact that Eren recognized the truths in his words. Levi couldn't tell, didn't know, but he knew that Jean was right. And seeing everyone this distraught over Eren’s remaining time tugged a bit at his heart.

Levi could not afford to lose this man, for personal reasons as well as the obvious ones. He had gone through too much, seen too much, to let Eren die here, to give up.

However, he also knew it wasn’t his choice. 

Staring up at the people who loved him, the people he called his friends, his family, his comrades, his mission, Eren found deep within himself a large sense of sadness. His mind spun, hazed and faded in and out, and already he could feel his eyes slipping shut. Pain wracked him, carrying him on its dizzying eddies, its sharp claws digging into his skin, and he let out a soft cry, a moan of pain and hurt. 

He tried to curl in on himself, tried to protect himself, tried to block out the agony and the dizziness rushing through him, asking him to give up and close his eyes. His hand reached for something, anything to hold onto. He closed his fist around something warm, something familiar, and let out a soft, soft sob. 

Levi jerked as Eren gave out a small cry and grabbed his hand suddenly. His grip, tight and unrelenting and desperate, so desperate. He knew this grip, but he never expected to see it from the other man. This grip, a last, final, desperate plea from one to another. Save me, it said. Help me, don’t let me go. He had never expected to see this, not since the end of the unfair war. 

This, the harsh grip of the dying.

“Out,” Eren whispered suddenly, his eyes clear and alert. “Please, get them out,” he said, clearly and loudly enough for Mikasa to hear. She began to usher people out, Connie and Sasha gaping in horror and concern and confusion, Hanji refusing and staying by Levi, Jean tucking an arm over Armin and holding him close as they left. Mikasa turned back, and Eren couldn't bear to see her cry. 

“You too,” he hoarsely rasped, giving off a small smile even though his entire body throbbed with pain. Mikasa froze, adamant on staying. 

“But Eren, no!” She said. He didn't want to see her tears, didn't want her to watch. She was probably one of the best things that could have happened to him, and he didn't want her to get hurt. 

“Mikasa, I’ll be fine, you're just overwhelming me. I love you, now go,” he gasped, curling to his left and tightening his death grip on Levi’s hand. Mikasa looked as if she had been slapped across the face. She turned hurriedly, still creating his face in her mind, and fled. He knew that he wouldn’t see her for a while, and knew that he would regret this for eternity.

The world suddenly turned into a shifting mass of pain and his breath hiccupped; he grabbed hard onto Levi’s hand and was surprised to feel the other man squeezing back. He doubled over, curling in on himself, coughing so hard he felt like he’d ripped something inside his throat. He coughed again and again, and then brought his hand away from his mouth. 

It was covered in red. 

That moment, and then another heartbeat, and then Hanji started to sob, hard, burying her face in Levi’s shoulder and reaching out to Eren. She pulled Eren’s head into her lap and gently stroked his hair away from his face. Levi grabbed onto both his hands, right by his side, and it really, really hit Eren then. He was dying, and these two would have to watch it. 

These two, who had become mentors for him in his journey to the Survey Corps, these two who had shown him through the new stage of his life–would walk with him to the door of the next one, the final stage of life and the beginning of death. They would go with him as far as possible, and leave him unwillingly when they could go no farther. 

He would rather no one be by his side, but he was glad it was them. Suddenly, Eren did not want to go through this alone. He did not want Mikasa and Armin to watch him depart. He did not want anyone from the 104th to see him like this ever again. No, better it be Hanji, who knew how everything about him worked. Better it be her, since she had been one of the first to trust him. 

And better it be Levi, who understood what made him tick, who made Eren feel understood and appreciated, even though he seemed like the last person to do so. Better it be him, one of the few people Eren would have held on to if he could. 

Eren choked then, turning and coughing, bringing his left hand up by his mouth. Levi loosened his grip, and Eren turned to the side to let the blood spill out of his mouth. He tightened his grip on Levi’s hand and held it as tightly as his feeble body could manage. 

“Will you...see me through?” He asked weakly, bloodstained lips ghosting over Levi’s fingers as he asked. The man clenched his hand tight and didn't answer, locking eyes with Hanji. She asked a simple question with her eyes, one that said, Are you ready to let him go? 

No, no Levi wasn't. 

“No, Eren,” he stated, voice full of emotion. “You won't die here. You've got a long life ahead of you, where you’ll find a wife and settle down happily. In the outside world, beyond the walls.” At that, Eren gave a chuckle which turned into a sob. 

“Don't want that,” he whispered, clenching onto Levi. “Not–not my type.” He shook with another coughing fit. “I'm dying.” Levi went to deny it, but he couldn't lie to this man. Before he could say anything, Eren raised a shaking, bloodstained finger to his lips. “Don't leave me?” 

A shudder wracked him and he jerked. Hanji stroked his head comfortingly, but he couldn't find any comfort. He was dying, and he wouldn't be coming back. No more second chances. Not even he could cheat death. 

“I'm not going anywhere,” Levi answered. Eren smiled, a painful, beautiful smile. His right hand dropped back down as his vision began to fade. He clenched onto Levi with his left, right twitching. His lips moved, and both Levi and Hanji leaned in to hear what he had said. 

Eren reached up with a bloody hand and gently cupped the side of Levi’s face, holding him there for a moment. His green eyes dulled. They closed, and then reopened in a struggle. 

“Mom? Dad? I–I've missed you…” His voice trailed off and his eyes looked up blearily into Levi's face. “What a pretty view…” His green, green eyes sharpened one last time as the two members of the Scouting Legion held him. 

Levi withheld a soft sob, touching the hand on his cheek, the hot flesh startling. He felt Eren pull him down, and willingly went with him. “Stay with me,” he whispered quietly, choking back and uncharacteristic sob, practically leaning over Hanji’s lap to speak to him. 

Eren smiled a bit but it was unfocused and strangely idyllic. He’d already begun crossing the barrier to that other side, that place that Levi had had too many brushes with and yet still knew nothing about. “C’mon, we still have work to do here, we've got to finish what we started.”

Eren simply shook his head, brown locks strewn across his face. It's strangely up close and personal for Levi, foreheads touching, but he’d endure it because Eren was dying and Eren was about to leave forever. 

Levi still couldn't process it, and he didn't want to let go. 

“You succeeded,” Eren whispered. “We did it. They'll be gone.” Then, Eren spoke five words that chilled both Levi and Hanji. 

“Every last one of them.”

His hand fell and his eyes remained open as he breathed shallowly, and then even more so, until he barely moved at all. The noises faded and faded and faded until he could see outlines of people imprinted across Levi’s blurry face. Hanji’s arms around him no longer felt real, Levi’s forehead pressed up against his and his hand holding his no longer felt remotely possible.

He could see people, spotted their faint starry outlines across his vision, calling him from across the end. He could barely hear it, because suddenly he was falling and his flesh was burning and he wanted to let out a scream but his body wouldn't work and then he didn't hear any of that. 

There was only one safe sound–and that sound could hardly ever be found in this world. 

He had to create it most days, since eleven years had passed. In eleven years he had not found the sound. Each year had dragged on after the first five, long and weighty and miserable. Hope had crashed on him like a glove, snatching him up and carrying him away. But it had crashed on him a few months ago, in a desperate search that carried much more burden than it should. But he had never truly found it. 

Now he heard it, heard it and welcomed it. 

The sound of silence.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this and that it made sense. *hands out tissues while keeping a box for myself* I hope it seriously have you guys the feels because if not then this is weird. Leave kudos and comment if this made you sad.


End file.
